


another sunny day, here in Insomnia

by SilverRollu



Series: My Kingdom for a Prince [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drabble, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, The Regalia - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 03:08:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13355235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverRollu/pseuds/SilverRollu
Summary: Dust gathering on the dashboard, paint chipped in a few places, leather seats speckled here and there with bits of Leiden sand and dirt.This is all that's left.He blinks furiously at the dash in front of him. Regis Lucis Caelum is dead and this is all that remains: cold, heavy metal. This is all he has left.





	another sunny day, here in Insomnia

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! Thought you'd seen the last of me, huh? Well. Perhaps not, haha.
> 
> This is meant to be read after [My Kingdom for a Prince](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11848338/chapters/26748585)! This Au (specifically Noct in this au, honestly) hasn't exactly left me alone so I've kinda gone ahead and... written a few more things. Like, little windows into everything surrounding it. I'm working on something more substantial but until then I have a few drabbles? I'll try to order them chronologically as I upload.

Noctis is so intensely, almost reverently glad the glaives managed to save the Regalia. The details are lost to him; the last push to save the citizens, the struggle to escape the center of the city, the things that occurred long after he’d taken a lucky shot to the back of head— it’s all lost. He can’t wrap his mind around it.

What he can think about, however, is the car in front of him. Sleek metal, dirty and banged up, yes, but still working, still alive – he can think about this. Noctis places his hands on the hood very slowly, almost like he’s expecting it to disappear. Gently, he wipes off dust, sees himself on the surface.

“Sorry the paint job’s messed up,” Nyx says, half joking, but Noctis had nearly forgotten the man was even there. “Niff bastards did their worse but… it still  _ runs _ , at least.”

Apparently they’d been using the Regalia, along with a few nondescript cars they’d managed to acquire, in their raids on imperial bases. Their hunt to find their missing prince.

He nods— well, he thinks he’s nodding. There’s a rock in his throat. He turns to face the people around him– Nyx, standing with his arms crossed. Gladio, Ignis, and Prompto are ahead of him, Prompto in particular looking like he wants to run up and touch the Regalia himself, has just that sort of look in his eyes. There’s other glaives around as well, names he doesn’t remember.

Noctis holds out his hand. “Keys–” it’s no good; clears his throat, tries again. “Keys?”

Nyx steps forward to place them in his hands. The object jingles in his hand, and noctis rubs his finger on the underside of the key, over the points and indentations. It feels surprisingly real in his fingers. He nods, something looking more like a little tilt of the head, in thanks. He unlocks the car, one hand on its sun-warmed metal as he opens it and peers inside.

It’s a little dirty, no doubt from the endless amounts of dirt-worn combat boots coming in and out of it. The dashboard has a little dust, the seats look a little crumpled, the mirrors seem a little misaligned. This doesn’t matter too much. noctis sits down, places his hands against the steering wheel. He takes in a deep breath.

The images come to mind instantaneously. His father is dead. Regis Lucis Caelum had been betrayed, stabbed, left for dead in the center of his country. He is not breathing, and he will never sit in this seat again. He will never hold this steering wheel, or touch the gear shifts, or fiddle with the mirror until it is just perfect, or flip through radio stations until a newscaster’s voice hums softly through the speakers,  _ it’s another sunny day, here in Insomnia– _

He coughs. He coughs a few times, and it feels like he’s choking, there’s something stuck in his throat. Noctis gasps, and it feels like there’s dust stuck in there, not enough to block but enough to burn. He thinks it’s dust. His eyes are watering. He coughs. He wheezes.

Soon, there’s a hand on his back, patting it carefully. He doesn’t care who it belongs to. He blinks furiously and the dash in front of him starts to blur and his eyelashes are heavy and wet and he doesn’t fucking  _ care. _

He’s dead! He’s  _ dead _ , and this is all that remains; Cold, heavy metal. It’s all he has left. This is all.

He tightens his hands on the wheel. This is all and it is  _ precious _ . Noctis blinks away the tears and he tries to focus as much as he can on the windshield. He’s trembling but he refuses to make any sounds. Because he’s not fucking crying in front of his friends, or the Kingsglaive, or whoever the fuck else happens to be around.

“Noct? You okay, buddy?”

“You need anything?”

“Noct?”

Noctis takes in a deep breath, runs the back of his hand across his eyes. “I’m cool. I’m okay.”

He gets a bunch of strange, unbelieving looks for it, but that’s fine. He holds the key tightly in his fingers, passing his thumb across the grooves again. He takes one more breath and turns to face his best friends.

“Let’s take her for a spin.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> check me out @[ tumblr](http://leonmckennedy.tumblr.com/) |[ twitter](http://twitter.com/vanridgeway) !!!


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